19 Oct 2017 | Buenos Aires> been hanging out in good airs, flâneuring, eating meat, drinking Malbec, etc.

Rio Plata as seen from the ecological reserve

Puerto Madero

cementerio Recoleta

more like an abandoned coffin warehouse

decrepit crypts in various states of neglect

loculi

biblioteca natl

El Ateneo Grand Splendid bookstore (converted from a theatre)

Xul Solar's pan-chess board

Xul Solar (Pan Arbol)

lunch spot in Palermo Soho

Palermo Soho

Basquiat lives on in Buenos Aires

as does Che

Argentina is currently obsessed w/ this Maldonado character above, sum sorta activist that went missing a few months ago under suspicious circumstances, a politically charged whodunnit, every corner u turn u see his mug, every TV broadcasting updates, various theories... seems they found a body in a river out west a few days ago + now folks are waiting for the autopsy results that just happen to coincide w/ election primaries...

back in Boca

in Proa looking out

Saw Julian Rosefeldt's Manifesto exhibit @ Proa—13 juxtaposed vignettes each starring various permutations of Cate Blanchett.

bar (San Telmo)

22 Oct | DC> on the way back started to read El Aleph by Jorge Borges, en español... speaking of, amigos con Xul Solar + also collaborator... in facto Xul Solar painted the Aleph + makes a cameo in a Borges cuento or 2... + quizas influenzed sum of Borges' signature motifs that reoccur in most of these 20 or so stories—infinity, labyrinths + the granularity of holographic microcosms—«Homer compuso la Odisea; postulado un plazo infinito, con infinitas circunstancias y cambios, lo impossible es no componer, siquiera una vez, la Odisea. Nadie es alguien, un solo hombre inmortal es todos los hombres.» + «La casa es del tamaño del mundo; mejor dicho, es el mundo.» (reconfirming our belief that there aint no point no more in leaving the house) + how this all gets distilled down to language, nada mas—«...ya no quedan imágenes del recuerdo, sólo quedan palabras. Palabras, palabras desplazadas y mutiladas, palabras de otros, fue la pobre limosna que le dejaron las horas y los siglos.»